


Too Many Cookies

by this_is_not_nothing



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, an AU because it turns out David can cook, and one blow job in the kitchen, too much coffee in bed, wildly indulgent domestic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 19:24:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing
Summary: Prompt:Schitt's Creek hosts a local cookie baking competition and David enters and Patrick provides moral support and taste testing.





	Too Many Cookies

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [thegrayness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness) in the [SCFrozenOver](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCFrozenOver) collection. 

> Thanks to everyone at my favorite bar being so lovely and specifically whetherwoman for the idea to include GCBS
> 
> Extra big thanks to thegrayness for listening to me whine, the endless hand-holding, constant validation, fixing all my commas and pronouns and basically just making this infinitely better by being you and also through all your edits and suggestions and also for beta'ing your own prompt, you are a great friend, to say the very least.

David’s walking his fingers up Patrick’s biceps and onto his shoulders, trying to convince him to let David take home a piece of the new Parmesan tonight for dinner—at cost. There’s a new cheese and butter co-op east of Toronto, whose products they just started carrying, and David thinks it’s important _ for the store _that he and Patrick are personally familiar with the products. 

It’s been lightly snowing all afternoon, and it seems like the perfect night for cacio e pepe. David is about to launch into a whole thing about how cozy it will be to head home in the snow and light some candles and be warm and have cheesy, peppery spaghetti and wine and Patrick can even wear those ugly socks he likes—when Jocelyn walks in, waving a stack of papers. “Hiya, boys, can I hang this flyer for the cookie contest in here?” 

David has maybe never seen a worse jumble of fonts and clip art, but before he can tell Jocelyn it doesn’t match the aesthetic of the store, his fiancé betrays him. 

“Of course, Jocelyn. Do you need some tape?” Patrick rummages for the dispenser, flagrantly ignoring the “Let David Make ALL Creative Decisions” Rule. 

“That’d be great, thanks so much, Patrick!” She’s hanging that horrendous poster before David even has a chance to interject.

Jocelyn’s babbling about how much fun the contest is going to be this year because Bob and Gwen donated $500 for the prize. Apparently, Gwen procured the money from an internet friend. David lets himself start imagining how nice it would be to get that espresso machine his father basically robbed him of last Christmas. Or maybe they could go away for a couple of nights. Or he could buy them each a new sweater; he’s getting good at eBay. 

Despite the poster being an atrocity against design, David finds himself asking to see one. Jocelyn’s surprise is practically tangible. “Of course David–I didn’t realize you knew how to bake.”

David shrugs. “I’m not in your league, Jocelyn. You’re the bake sale queen. Is that–is that a thing?” He gestures vaguely, willing himself to stop talking. Patrick reaches over and squeezes his hand, like he knows David needs to be grounded. The simple pleasure of being known by Patrick Brewer isn’t showing any signs of getting old.

“David’s a great cook, don’t listen to him.” Patrick shakes his head.

Jocelyn’s face goes through an impressive journey before landing on her normal polite expression. “Great, the more the merrier! Anyway, I’m not actually entering, I’m one of the judges!”

Patrick looks confused. “Bob and Gwen aren’t judging?”

“Oh no! Gwen doesn’t trust Bob’s opinion at all. She’s asked me and Ray to help out!” Jocelyn cheerfully supplies as if it’s not completely weird.

“So, how does it work?” David asks.

“Well, you can enter two kinds of cookies, and you need to bring four dozen of each kind. The judges get one dozen to try, and the other three dozen get raffled off by the dozen.” Jocelyn explains they’re raising money for asbestos removal.

Patrick hip checks David lightly. “Ding dong,” he says softly under his breath.

David whips his head to glare at Patrick before turning back to Jocelyn. “One dozen for the judges? That’s a little much.”

“Well, Gwen decided that since she’s financing the prize, she’d like to be able to take some home.” Jocelyn shrugs apologetically.

“Well. This sounds fun.” David hopes he put the right amount of enthusiasm into his voice.

Jocelyn looks at him skeptically but gives him a cheerful smile. “It is fun! Well, I better get going, these signs aren’t going to hang themselves!”

His brain starts cataloging all the recipes he’s tried or wants to try, and he also thinks about where the espresso machine should go. If he doesn’t win, maybe he can convince Patrick to buy one anyway as a consolation prize for him. David needs to figure out which recipes to try, when he can shop and—maybe he can take a day off to test recipes? He hardly ever takes a day off. He likes being at the store and he likes being near Patrick. This project seems like something that might be easier to do without Patrick around, though, moving in his space, distracting him. Plus, Patrick always does the dishes when David’s cooking, and it doesn’t seem fair for Patrick to have to do a bunch of dishes just so David can enter some dumb contest. He heads toward the back room but he’s stopped by Patrick’s hand on his hip. “Where are you going, David?”

David shimmies. “I think we both know I’m going to research cookie recipes.”

Patrick smirks. “Maybe we can use the winnings to attend a marketing seminar in Elmdale.”

David shakes his head firmly. “Yeah, no, I think maybe it would be more appropriate to use the money for an espresso machine for us? More in the spirit of the holidays.” 

“Ooh. For us. Funny, because that electric kettle works just fine for my tea. Maybe we should just get you some instant coffee and put the money towards the honeymoon.” Patrick slaps his ass and pushes him behind the curtain.

David smiles at the word honeymoon. It’s been a few months since the hike that wasn’t a picnic and he still can’t believe he gets to marry Patrick. 

David’s narrowed down the list of recipes for his testing day to some fancy [chocolate chip cookies](https://www.seriouseats.com/recipes/2013/12/the-food-lab-best-chocolate-chip-cookie-recipe.html) with brown butter; [butter cookies ](https://smittenkitchen.com/2017/10/bakery-style-butter-cookies-the-new-book-is-here/)sandwiched with jam and dipped in chocolate and sprinkles, which he hopes will be a better version of those ubiquitous and mediocre cookies on every cookie tray in New York that he could never resist; [chocolate almond toffee saltine bark](https://www.foodandwine.com/recipes/chocolate-almond-saltine-toffee); and [gingersnaps](https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/gingersnaps-recipe), because he’s been meaning to make them for Patrick. He starts a list of what he’ll need, which appears to be mostly a copious amount of butter and multiple types of sugar and chocolate. 

If he goes with Patrick to the store for the weekly grocery store trip on Monday—and if he can convince Patrick to cover the store—he can spend all day Tuesday testing the four recipes. He’s pretty sure if he’s organized enough, he can make a batch of each in one day, and then he and Patrick can narrow it down to the best two to enter into the contest. Plus they have a stand mixer now, which should help him get it all done in time. It had been an engagement present from Marcy and Clint, and it was accompanied by the recipe for Patrick’s favorite lemon meringue pie. David had been intimidated, but Marcy insisted that with the right equipment and a little patience, he could do it; and she was right. He’d had a stand mixer in New York that he’d never used but having this one in the apartment he shares with Patrick is so much better. It takes up way too much room in their small kitchen, but Patrick’s delight at eating anything David makes for him is addicting. 

  
On Monday, David drags himself out of bed to go grocery shopping with Patrick. Ever since Patrick found out David could cook, he’s been more than happy to do the shopping, since it means that David will make him dinner. David seriously considers giving Patrick his cookie-ingredient list and asking him very sweetly if he could get everything, but he actually kind of wants to win this competition, and ingredient selection based on whatever is on sale doesn’t seem like the path to victory. So, instead of laying in bed with a second coffee and a book, he’s on his way to an overlit shopping cart hell.

It’s actually kind of nice to walk through the aisles together, bickering about whether both types of chocolate are necessary, which Patrick only accepted when David showed him the recipes. He loves getting to see Patrick like this, fussy and organized, moving though his little list organized by aisle. He knows he’s slowing Patrick down with his list organized by recipe. After Patrick’s exaggerated groan the second time David makes them double back to the baking aisle, he relents and hands his phone to Patrick. “Here, go ahead. Condense this onto your list.” 

Patrick’s sigh of relief is just a little too loud. “Thank you, David.” He grabs David’s head and pulls him in for a lingering kiss. David pulls back first and smirks when he sees Patrick’s cheeks are flushed. “So I see the list-compiling really works for you.” 

After the list is completed and the groceries are loaded into the trunk, David slides into the passenger seat. Patrick forgot his gloves, so David queues up his Patrick Playlist, which is full of the songs that make Patrick drum his thick fingers on the steering wheel in a way that turns David on more than he’s comfortable with, but has long since accepted. He keeps sneaking glances at Patrick’s hands and now all he can think about is where he’d really like those fingers. Like in his hair. Or grabbing his hips. Or maybe his ass. Really anywhere Patrick puts them. He’s _ really _ hoping Patrick doesn’t have some weird chore list for the day that he’s going to be obsessive about working through because that would really ruin David’s plans for the afternoon. He was going to make the dough for chocolate chip cookies as soon as they got home since it needs to rest overnight, but that could wait until much later. 

When Patrick pulls up to their building, David wonders briefly if he can get away with not carrying things in, but then he realizes if he helps they can move on to the not groceries portion of the day much quicker. 

“Thanks for letting me take tomorrow off so I can bake, I _ really _ appreciate it.” David crowds Patrick against the counter once the groceries are all organized and put away.

“Yeah? Gonna show me how much?” Patrick grins and leans in for a kiss.

David pulls back. “Mmhmm, yup.”  
  
David presses against Patrick and drags his mouth down Patrick’s neck, scraping his stubble hard enough to flush Patrick’s pale neck, while he untucks his shirt. David’s been thinking about getting Patrick naked since he let David buy the good butter so he doesn’t waste any time, unbuttoning Patrick’s pants and shoving them down. David scrapes his nails up Patrick’s thighs and starts sucking a mark onto his collarbone. “You look so good like this, so hard for me already.” Patrick whimpers and thrusts against David’s still clothed hips. “Do you like that? Looking good for me?” David barely gets the question out before Patrick gets his hands on David’s jaw and pulls him in for a kiss. Patrick grinds into David’s hip harder when David licks into his mouth. David loves how needy Patrick is already. David gets a hand between them and starts lightly stroking Patrick, not really giving him what David knows he needs, wanting to wait and see how desperate Patrick will get. 

“Maybe I should go grocery shopping with you more often. We didn’t even buy that many things on sale.” David twists his wrist the way Patrick likes, giving him a little more, and Patrick starts fucking into David’s hand. “David–please. You need to–please.” Patrick sounds frustrated, but David’s not quite ready to give Patrick what he wants, so he loosens his grip. “So eager, do you need more?” He teases. 

Patrick whimpers against David’s neck, his fingernails scraping roughly through the short hair there. David grips Patrick’s cock hard, giving him more, increasing the friction and suddenly Patrick moans out a breathy, “David.” David knows that particular version of his name, knows it means Patrick’s close. David slows his hand, sliding his thumb across the head of Patrick’s cock, loving how wet Patrick is, his cocking leaking from just David’s hand. “Not yet, want to get my mouth around you. Can you do that for me? Let me suck you?” Patrick lifts his head and looks at David, nods slowly, his eyes dark and determined. 

David’s still smirking when Patrick gets his hands on David’s shoulders and pushes him to his knees. “Open.”

David’s mouth falls open—half in surprise, half in obedience—and Patrick doesn’t hestiate to fuck into his mouth. Patrick’s using one hand to hold David’s jaw where he wants it, and the other has wound its way into David’s hair. He pulls hard, much harder than usual, keeping David’s mouth tipped up and making David’s dick throb in his jeans. He undoes his pants and gets a hand around himself and—he’s too close all of a sudden, he’s going to come, he _ needs _ to come. Patrick fucks into his mouth sharply, pressing his dick into the back of David’s throat. “Don’t you dare come before me.”

David looks up at Patrick and tries to nod but he can’t move, so he just makes a low moan around Patrick’s cock and puts his hands on his own thighs. He’s not gonna last if he keeps touching himself. “Good boy. Gonna give you what you wanted.” David tries to use his tongue, he needs Patrick to come right now, or he’s going to come first, untouched, on his knees, on the kitchen floor. Patrick starts fucking David’s face in steady thrusts, never letting up his almost too tight grip on David’s hair. 

Suddenly, Patrick’s coming down his throat and David doesn’t waste a second, he gets a hand around himself and is coming hard, all over himself, after two strokes while Patrick shudders through his orgasm. Patrick slides down to the floor and pulls David over to him. David looks down at his sweater, and can’t bring himself to care about the mess he made on himself. 

Patrick stands up after a few minutes and pulls David to his feet. “Let’s shower. You can’t bake like this. It wouldn't be sanitary.”

David rolls his eyes but lets Patrick undress him and pull him into the shower.

After, David slides on his favorite joggers and one of Patrick’s old super soft t-shirts, and goes back to give the counter a quick wipe down so he can make the chocolate chip cookie dough. He figures if he’s going to enter something as basic as chocolate chip cookies, he needs to make sure they’re exceptional. While David bakes, he hears Patrick humming as he cleans the bathroom, and for a moment David lets himself enjoy the causal domesticity of living together before refocusing on the dough. 

When David starts cleaning up, Patrick comes over to help. The plan for dinner is chicken parm, so David starts on that while Patrick’s washing the last of the bowls in the sink. He’s got his egg wash, breadcrumbs and frying pan all set up when Patrick’s arms wrap around him.

“Wine?” Patrick asks, nuzzling into David’s neck.

“Mmm, yes please. Can you also pass me the apron?” David’s not a fan of aprons, but he’s come perilously close to ruining a sweater making this meal in the past, which is unacceptable. Patrick thinks he’s very cute in it though, which does help a little. 

Patrick’s arms disappear momentarily. He realizes then that he has on Patrick’s shirt and not a dry clean only collection piece, but then Patrick’s arms reappear and drop the apron over his head. He ties it for David and licks up David’s neck in the process. “I do like this look on you.”

“Should I make dinner for us, or do you have other plans?” David waits. Patrick’s just as bad as him when he needs to eat, but has manners to hide it most of the time. 

Patrick groans. “I’m actually hungry, plus I’m still recovering from this afternoon.” He gives David’s neck soft kiss. 

David fries the chicken cutlets while Patrick shreds the cheese and preps the pan. Standing side by side, David puts the sauce on the chicken, and Patrick sprinkles the cheese. It’s a well-practiced routine since it’s dinner practically every Monday—a little day-off treat. David gives Patrick a little nudge with his shoulder and Patrick leans to kiss his cheek. David never expected to love something as simple as having a regular Monday dinner and he’s given up on hiding how happy it makes him. Mostly it’s just the two of them, but sometimes Stevie comes over for dinner. Amusingly, she always assumes Patrick cooked, and David always lets her. 

Suddenly, David realizes that if he enters the cookie contest, he’s going to have to come clean about the fact that he knows how to cook. And bake. He hadn’t been _ lying _per se. He’d just been enjoying that this was a Just With Patrick thing. He was happy to let everyone think the increasingly complicated leftovers they’d been enjoying for lunch were the result of Patrick’s skills in the kitchen. 

After dinner, David settles with his head on Patrick’s shoulder, ready to resume their Downton Abbey rewatch. For every sports they watch, David gets to pick the TV show the next night. About halfway through the episode Patrick pauses it and gets up—another part of their routine. 

“Ice cream?” David sends an eyebrow up. 

“Yup. Do you want your own bowl tonight or are you just going to eat half of mine?” Patrick asks.

“There’s some of the good pistachio ice cream in there–that you like so much.” David tries to scowl at him, ignoring the question. 

“Oh yes. That_ I _like so much.” Patrick’s outright laughing at him now, and David can’t bring himself to care.

When Patrick sits down again, David looks pointedly at the bowl. “Wow, that’s so much ice cream. You better eat fast or it will melt.”

“I think I’m gonna have some help.” Patrick gives David a truly terrible wink and shoves a spoon of ice cream into David’s mouth.

David grins as Patrick keeps feeding him ice cream. “It tastes better this way.”

When the ice cream is gone, Patrick gives him a sticky-sweet kiss before hitting play. “The Crawleys wait for no one, David.”

The next morning, David is very excited about both not rushing out of bed to get to the store and baking all day. He’s treated to Patrick bringing him coffee in bed wearing nothing but a towel. David sits up and tips his head back for a kiss. “Should I even bother trying to make you late?”

Patrick drops a kiss on his forehead. “I think you know that answer.”

David takes the coffee with a smile. “Fine, go be responsible.” He does at least manage to yank the towel away. If Patrick’s not going to get back in bed, David might as well enjoy the view as he walks away.

Patrick refills his coffee before he leaves and David lazily scrolls on his phone until mug is empty before finally getting up for the day. He reread each recipe this morning and despite still having no idea what the fuck the chocolate chip cookie recipe means by, “tear each ball in half to reveal a rougher surface, then stick them back together with the rough sides facing outward,” means, it should mostly go smoothly. The gingersnaps and the bark don’t seem very complicated, but the other two recipes are a little more involved. He’s also going to make the carnitas Patrick likes in the slow cooker, too, as a thank you for covering the store alone all day.

A couple of hours later, David feels a lot less great about his plan. He’s spent more time washing dishes than baking. He misses Patrick. He really wants to give up and sit on the couch and skip this stupid contest. He looks over his to-do list and he’s hoping the worst is over—he’s tired and his hands are visibly dry.

Thankfully, the gingersnaps end up being very easy. Since they’re Patrick’s favorite, David’s really hoping this recipe is delicious. He’d love to be the kind of person that made his husband-to-be’s favorite cookies all the time, just because. When the gingersnaps come out the oven, David pops one in his mouth and can’t help but smile. Patrick is going to love these. 

As soon as Patrick walks into the apartment, David’s crossing the room and wrapping his arms around him. Patrick laughs into his neck. “At least let me take off my coat.”

David huffs and pulls back to start unzipping Patrick’s parka. “I missed you.” David’s occasionally still surprised to hear himself being so honest about his feelings. “How was the store?” He hangs up Patrick’s coat up and suddenly Patrick’s got a hand on the back of his head, brushing his lips against David’s. 

“I missed you, too. The store was actually really busy today. I have a couple of emails I need to reply to, then I’m all yours. How’d the recipe testing go?” Patrick’s kissing him every few words, and David can’t believe he wanted to do bake all day alone. David settles his lips on Patrick’s, and gently sucks on his lower lip before licking into his mouth, tasting his afternoon tea. David keeps kissing Patrick, slow and lazy, knowing in a minute he’ll need to finish baking while Patrick works. Patrick pulls back first. “Emails.”

David nods and gives him one more kiss before heading into the kitchen. He’s got the tray for the bark prepped, with all the saltines laid out just so and bowls of chopped chocolate and toasted almonds ready, so he starts making the toffee. David’s never done this before and it’s fascinating to watch the sugar and butter completely transform before his eyes. When the buttery sugary foamy caramel hits the correct temperature, he carefully pours it over the saltines and spreads it as evenly as he can across the pan. When he’s done, it looks so much like the photo that he’s actually feeling very proud of himself.

Patrick’s finished his emails and started the dishes and David has never loved anyone more. “I just have to assemble the bakery cookies and then we can have dinner and taste test?”

“Can’t wait. I’ve been looking forward to tasting them since you sent me the pictures this afternoon. Do you want help assembling those?” 

“Maybe? I’m hoping it goes fast.”

It does go fast, mostly because Patrick ends up helping dip the ends in chocolate and sprinkles. David loves the easy rhythm of working beside Patrick in the kitchen. They get everything cleaned up, and other than the cookies on every surface, it’s like the mess was never there. 

“Should I call in for the pizza now?” Patrick asks.

“I made dinner. There’s carnitas in the slow cooker.” David cannot believe that’s a real thing he said just now to his fiancé. “Couldn’t you smell them? Oh, and I made guacamole and those red onions you like, they’re in the fridge. We just need to warm the tortillas and shred the meat.”

Patrick’s face goes soft and David is glad he made the extra effort this morning. “David. That was very nice of you.” Patrick says it softly and so warmly; David wants to cocoon himself in this moment. 

David makes a sort of pleased harrumph noise as he tries to shrug it off. “I’ll do the tortillas since you burned them last time.” 

“For the record, they weren’t burned–they were charred. And the apartment smells like a bakery.” Patrick’s already grabbing forks to pull the meat apart, so David decides to let him have the win.

After assembling plates full of pork tacos, David settles next to Patrick on the sofa. Patrick hits play on the next episode of The Great Canadian Baking Show. Patrick has an inexplicable crush on the host, who David thinks is brave for wearing such thick glasses with those eyebrows.

“I love this show, it’s so soothing. _ And _ we actually have our own treats to try later so it won’t be as torturous as usual.” David’s feeling pretty hopeful that at least one of the recipes will be a good enough to enter into the contest, maybe even win, based on what he tasted throughout the day. 

Patrick looks over at him right as he shoves a bite of taco into his mouth and gestures at the host shoving a Swiss roll in his mouth on the screen. “I guess I have a type.” 

David blanches. “Um. His wardrobe is decidedly too colorful.”

Patrick presses his lips together in an almost laugh. “I guess there’s just something about him that reminds me of you.”

“Mm. Disagree. Now go back–we missed how many layers that trifle has. I think they said NINE.” David’s about to gesture when he realizes he is about to lose a bunch of guacamole from his taco so he turns his attention back to eating, where it belongs. 

Before the next episode can start, David reaches for the remote to hit pause. “Let's clean up and get cookies.” He gives a little shimmy and raises his eyebrows, and feels a spark of satisfaction when Patrick grins at him. “To be clear, I’ll be making the cookie plate, and you’ll be doing the cleaning.”

Patrick grabs their plates from the coffee table and drops a kiss on his forehead. “Ha, didn’t see that coming.”

“Do you want a tea?” David asks once he’s done artfully arranging cookies on a plate.

“Yeah, that'd be good if you don’t mind,” Patrick answers.

David turns on the tea kettle and gets down two mugs. “I’m having decaf, do you want to try that weird herbal tea from Twyla’s aunt?”

“The decaf is fine. I’m not sure what’s in that herbal tea.” Patrick’s setting the last dishes into the drainboard. “Go sit. I’ll bring the tea over.”

David gets cozy on the couch and pulls the throw over his legs. It’s too bad their fireplace doesn’t work because the apartment gets drafty in the winter. He should have grabbed a pair of Patrick’s dumb hiking socks, his feet are cold, but now he doesn’t want to get up again. He never wants to leave the couch again.

“Was it cold out today?” David realizes he hasn’t left the apartment at all today and has spent most of the day sticking his head in a hot oven. He tucks the blanket tighter around his feet.

“Yeah pretty chilly. Windy. We sold a lot of scarves, even a couple of the cat-hair ones.” Patrick answers while he pours the tea.

David’s trying to figure out the best angle to take a picture of the plate of cookies when a pair of socks lands next to him. He looks up at Patrick. “These socks are terrible,” he says, but he’s already tossing the blanket aside so he can put them on, so he’s pretty sure Patrick knows it’s a lie. “Thanks, honey.”

Patrick snuggles in next to him and pulls David’s feet up against his thigh before fixing the blanket around them

“Ok. So which are we trying first?” Patrick glances at the gingersnaps.

“I’m easy either way, which did you want to try first?” David replies, knowing exactly which cookie Patrick is going to choose.

Patrick predictably grabs a gingersnap, so David follows suit. These probably won’t make it to the contest but the look on Patrick’s face as he bites into it sends a shimmer of pleasure through David. 

“David—these are delicious.” He grabs another one and dips it in his tea. David’s definitely going to make these all the time. He’ll have to tell Patrick to add vegetable shortening to the Aisle 5 section of the list.

David grabs a chocolate-dipped butter cookie that’s sandwiched with jam and tries not to get sprinkles everywhere as he takes a bite. They are very good and make him a little nostalgic for New York, but he’s not sure if they’re only good because of that. 

“These are pretty good.” Patrick’s face betrays him though, and David knows he thinks they're only okay.

“They remind me of New York, so I think I’m biased toward them. And it’s cute you think I can’t tell you don’t love these.” David boops Patrick on the nose, and unfortunate side effect of being close with Alexis.

David picks up a chocolate chip cookie. “These better be fucking amazing, that recipe was tedious.” He takes a bite and is immediately relieved and annoyed at how good they are. Even though sprinkling coarse salt over the still-warm cookies and then, “gently pressing the salt down to embed,” seemed a step too far, it made a big difference. The cookies are great combo of salty/sweet which is very much David’s thing.

Patrick’s looking at him with a weird expression. 

“Do you not like them?” David’s eyebrows knit and he tries to unfurrow them.

“David, no. These are–they're amazing. I knew you were good, but–” Patrick trails off and takes another bite of cookie. 

“I mean, it was just a really good recipe.” David shrugs. 

“Don’t do that. You make a lot of jokes about cooking being a literacy test, and we both know I can read and my food doesn’t turn out like yours. You definitely need to enter these. Might be able to get to the marketing seminar after all.” Patrick smiles at him, that full Patrick smile that’s like looking at the sun, and David can’t help but grin back. When Patrick smiles at him like that, his heart grows three sizes every time.

David gives his head a little shake and looks over at the cookies. “Okay, last one.” He holds a piece of bark up to Patrick’s mouth for him to take a bite, then pops the rest in his own mouth. “Mmm. I’m very into this. Is this a cookie though?” David asks.

Patrick pauses. “I mean, not really. But I want more.”

David holds up another piece for Patrick to take a bite. “I don’t want to waste an entry if it’s going to be eliminated. But I do like the idea of both submissions being salty/sweet.” David groans. “Should I have looked at Christina Tosi recipes?”

“I don’t know what that means.” Patrick shrugs and grabs his own piece. “Worth the risk I think. Plus you love a theme.”

“So the verdict is bark and chocolate chip cookies? I’ll probably need another half day off? Is that okay so close to the holidays?” David spins the gold rings on his fingers, feeling bad about abandoning Patrick twice. David’s covered the store without Patrick, for longer, and he knows it can be overwhelming. Once, when Patrick went to an overnight tax seminar, David seriously considered closing the store forever just to make the incessant customer questions stop. Though, that might just be David’s aversion to people in general.

“It’s no problem.” Patrick pauses with his finger over the play button and hands David a butter cookie. “Are those your favorite?”

“Mmm, I think so. But I don’t think they’re the best.” David knows he’ll be making these again, maybe he’ll make a batch for his parents. His dad would really like them. 

Patrick hits play and David watches the host try a kumquat. “Can’t this guy control his face?”

Patrick’s laughter jostles David’s head from its perch on his shoulder. “He’s just expressive–it’s part of his charm. Trust me, very charming.”

Later that night when they are about to fall asleep, David can’t help but ask, “Do you think I have a chance?”

Patrick picks his head up from David’s chest to look at him. “David. You have a _ really good _ chance.” 

David nods and Patrick scooches up to kiss his forehead. He nudges David to his side and wraps his arms around him, pulling David back into his chest. “You’re so good,” he whispers.

Patrick sounds as sleepy as David feels, and he lets himself be lulled to sleep by Patrick’s breathing on his neck.

A couple of weeks later, on the morning of the contest, David gets up with Patrick’s alarm, much to his dismay. He stays in bed and checks his email, though, hoping Patrick will make him coffee when he’s out of the shower. Last night he’d made the chocolate chip cookie dough and attempted to make the stupid bark, but he’d done _ something _wrong and when he’d tried to break the bark into pieces, the chocolate had separated from the toffee and it looked awful—like if hairless cats were a holiday treat. So now in addition to baking the chocolate chip cookies this morning, he’s got to remake the bark before the contest in the afternoon.

Patrick comes out of the bathroom in boxers, looking good enough that David’s tempted to reevaluate his morning routine. It might be nice to include this particular view more often. David’s definitely appreciative that Patrick runs hot enough to hardly ever need to wear the robe David bought him. There’s so much soft, still-damp skin that David could be touching, so he gets out of bed and drapes himself over Patrick as he makes the coffee.

Patrick huffs out a laugh as he shuffles them around. “This is nice. Having you in the kitchen with me instead of wishing I was still in bed with you.”

David smiles into Patrick’s shoulder. “Don’t get used to it. Also we need to preheat the oven, please.” His voice is still raspy from sleep, but Patrick’s is already alert and ready for the day. It makes David feel less bad about needing to finish baking this morning while Patrick’s alone at the store. Patrick’s voice can handle anything.

Patrick slides them over to the oven and David reaches around to turn it to 325. Patrick turns around and brushes some bed head off David’s forehead. “You've got this, David.” 

David gives a tiny nod. “Coffee first?” He asks softly. Patrick turns back around to push the knob of the French press down. David wraps his arms back around Patrick’s waist and shuffles with him over to the fridge for the half and half.

After their dance around the kitchen with David stuck to Patrick’s back, Patrick turns to David with a mug of perfect coffee and presses a quick kiss to David’s mouth. “Okay, I’m gonna get ready. Wanna get in a little early and make sure everything’s all set for when we open.”

Barely twenty minutes later, Patrick’s dressed and kissing him goodbye. David’s hair alone takes longer than Patrick’s whole routine. “I know it’s gonna be busy today, I’ll try to be there by lunch.” The plan is to close the store in time to walk over to the town hall for the contest. Patrick told David he wasn’t missing a chance to support his fiancé, and David certainly wasn’t going to protest.

Patrick covers David’s mouth with his in a slow and lingering kiss, and David doesn't want him to leave. “The bark is gonna turn out fine. I love you. See you later.”

“Love you, honey.” The instant calm of Patrick’s faith in him is like sliding into a bed with fresh sheets. 

The look on Patrick’s face when David walks into the store—with tea and before noon—is very satisfying. He’s glad Patrick left him the car, he definitely couldn’t have walked everything over here. David will probably never admit it to Patrick, but it means a lot that Patrick trusts David with his car. 

The store is busy with holiday shoppers and he barely has time to kiss Patrick hello before David finds himself trying to upsell a gift basket. The rest of the day is much the same and suddenly it’s time to close for the competition. 

The town hall actually looks kind of nice. David’s impressed, Alexis really did a good job with the decorations. There are little lights strung up across the room, a bit over used since rustic chic barn weddings became so popular, but still pretty. David’s relieved to see she took his advice and went with a deep navy ribbon to hang the paper snowflakes. 

After he registers, he nervously hands his labeled cookie tins to a bewildered Bob. “David, did you mean to put Patrick’s name on these?”

“Nope. Shockingly good at knowing if I’ve done something or Patrick has,” David shoots back. He feels Patrick give him a little nudge. “But um, yes. I baked these.”

“That’s great, David! Maybe you’ll win Gwen’s prize money. Sure wish I was a judge so I could taste them. Maybe I’ll bid on yours, Gwen just told me she’s not sharing the leftover judges’ cookies with me,” Bob babbles on, and David doesn’t really understand how he manages to be so relentlessly cheerful. Not for the first time, he finds himself wondering what’s in the creek. Leaving his treats with Bob feels like dropping a baby off at a firehouse, but he manages, and then he grabs Patrick’s hand and pulls him over by Stevie.

“So you really baked? Or are you trying to pass off a secret custom order from Shannon as your own?” Stevie smirks.

“Okay, first of all, I didn’t even think of that. Secondly, I’m a professional and I would never enlist one of my trusted vendors into such a scheme.” David scoffs. 

Patrick laughs. “So wait, are you offended that you lack professionalism or imagination?”

David turns abruptly. “You’re supposed to be on my side. We’re a team!” He wiggles the gold rings in Patrick’s face. Patrick grabs his hand and kisses the band on his ring finger. Stevie interrupts right as David’s about to lean and kiss Patrick properly. 

“Okay. No. I’m too sober for you two to be this tender. If you're going to keep this up, you need to get me a drink.” 

Patrick heads over to the cash bar Twyla has set up in the corner, and David turns to watch Patrick walk away, turning back to Stevie when she elbows him. “You two are disgusting. Please stop.”

“Okay, it’s not my fault those jeans are working for him.” David’s not apologizing for checking out his fiancé. “How’s the motel?”

“You were there two days ago. It’s the same. But now more festive, your dad went on a decorating spree.” Stevie’s face makes David think that’s a significant understatement and he makes a mental note to prepare for the worst next time he stops by. Patrick returns with three beers. 

“It was this or raisin zhampagne, so cheers!” David grimaces but knows this was the correct choice.

Half a beer later, David nervously watches the trio of judges stop at his two plates. He can’t watch and he can’t look away. He edges a little closer to Patrick just as he hears Ray say, “Very delicious, but would we call this a cookie?” Patrick runs a hand up and down David’s back to calm him and then rests it right above his waistband. 

“This is exactly what I was worried about.” David hears the panic in his voice. He knew he shouldn’t have made the bark, even if it was delicious. David watches them trying his chocolate chip cookies, trying to discern what Ray’s normally expressive and currently unreadable face is doing. He really does want to win, more than he was admitting to himself up until this point. In retrospect, the sheer number of hours he’d spent testing recipes should have been an indication. 

He fiddles with his rings as he watches the judges taste the rest of the entries. Then there was the whole auction raffle thing, but David wasn’t actually sure how that part worked? Jocelyn mentioned lists and the highest bidder, but David’s mind had definitely wandered. 

The lady he _ assumes _is Gwen is biting the head off one of the intricately decorated gingerbread livestock that David assumes Ted made. There is an alarming about of shortbread and nanaimo bars for the judges to work through, plus some misshapen brown lumps David attributed to Twyla. 

Suddenly Stevie’s shoving another beer in his face, and he realizes he’d finished his first one already. “David. It’s fine,” she says. “We both know Patrick’s gonna get you an espresso machine either way.”

David glances over at Patrick who’s shaking his head with a tight lipped smile on. David grins. “Really?” he asks Patrick.

“I definitely am not getting you an espresso machine if you lose. But. I think you’re gonna win.” Patrick’s beaming at him, which makes David think Stevie is right. If Patrick gets him an espresso machine, David is definitely booking them a weekend away, maybe even somewhere with a hike nearby.

After a _ lot _more standing around and trying to overhear the judges, Jocelyn’s standing on a chair in the middle of the room and clapping twice loudly. “Well, we’ve made a decision on this year’s winner! You’re never gonna believe it–I sure didn’t!” Jocelyn laughs and gestures for the probably Gwen lady to stand. David tightens his grip on Patrick’s hand, aware he’s gripping too hard when he hears Patrick’s sharp inhale. He tries to make himself relax and Patrick’s squeezes his hand reassuringly. 

“That is Gwen, right?” David whispers. 

“Yes,” Patrick whispers back.

“Special thanks to my dear anonymous friend for this year’s grand prize. The winner, unexpectedly, is David Rose. His chocolate chip cookies were outstanding.” Gwen’s weird matter-of-fact delivery somehow makes it harder for David to understand the words she’s saying. Before he’s really even processed it, Patrick’s arms are around him and he’s kissing him. “I knew you’d win. I’m so proud of you David,” Patrick’s voice is so warm and sincere, and he’s making his heart eyes face, it’s overwhelming.

David buries his face in Patrick’s shoulder–he’s not sure if he wants to laugh or cry–and when he picks his head back up he’s surrounded by his entire family? It’s surreal enough to have won but what are his parents doing here? Where were they this whole time? “I didn’t know you guys were here?” Alexis is holding one of his cookies, half-eaten, in her hand as she flicks her wrist toward him. 

“Nom nom, David.” David’s not even sure how she got one of the cookies from the judges.

His mother gestures with an open hand in Patrick’s direction. “Your partner in business and love mentioned this was occasion that simply could not be missed.”

His dad claps a hand on his shoulder. “Way to go, son.”

“Who knew my best friend could bake?” Stevie’s smiling her real smile and David thinks he might die of happiness. Stevie throws her arms around his waist briefly, before sheepishly stepping back.

“I knew.” Patrick’s pulling him close again and pressing a kiss to his temple. 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of raffles and celebratory drinks at the cafe with his family—Stevie insists it’s her treat. David still doesn’t really understand this raffle/auction hybrid that Jocelyn came up with, but there was a small bidding war for his extra batches. Patrick thinks they could sell both the cookies and bark at the store as a weekly special in limited quantities. 

Finally, he’s alone with Patrick, at home in bed. He’s never had so many people tell him they were proud of him before, and it’s overwhelming. “What made you invite my parents today?” David hadn’t planned on asking, but in _ their _ bed, with Patrick’s solid body pressing against his back and his warm arms around him, David knows he can say anything, knows it will be okay.

Patrick presses a kiss to shoulder. “Just thought they should be there. Thought it’d be good. You worked hard.”

“I’m glad you did,” David mumbles. He’s content and cozy and has a whole life full of people who love him. There’s an espresso machine in his future and maybe a couple of nights away with his fiancé. “Really glad.”


End file.
